11. Malik #3
I was smiling like a fool, typing back, when something nagged at my peripheral vision. That rental car. I’d noticed it when I first came outside, parked maybe fifty yards down. I thought nothing of it. I figured someone was visiting the Johnsons.
But now, looking closer, and coming from my sex high, my body went from relaxed to alert in seconds. This wasn’t a busy street or neighborhood, five houses max. And the Johnsons were in Florida for the weekend.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Someone was in the driver’s seat, slumped low. How long had they been there? My jaw clenched. After everything with Ashe showing up at the hospital, at...
I stepped back inside my house to grab my gun. Somebody had me fucked up and would learn a lesson on it today. I exited my house from the back and crept up so they wouldn’t see me and decide to leave.
I slipped my hand behind my back, fingers closing around the grip of my Glock. Moving with purpose, I crossed the distance quickly. The figure in the car shifted, trying to start the engine.
Too late.
I was at the window before he could flee, tapping the barrel against the glass.
“Step yo weak ass out the car.”
Ashe. Of course it was Ashe.
When he didn’t move fast enough, I yanked the door open and hauled him out by his shirt, slamming him against the rental. The smell of piss hit me, this nigga had pee’d on himself. Pathetic.
“You got ten seconds to tell me why I shouldn’t blow your fucking head off for sitting in front of my shit like a goddamn creep.”
He struggled weakly. “Speak. Five seconds.” I slammed him again.
“I got a price,” he gasped.
“What the fuck are you talking about? This ain’t the time for riddles, clown ass nigga.”
“She looked good in that lace last night. I never got that Sametra. You lucky nigga you.”
My vision went red. This piece of shit had been watching us. Watching her.
“But look, if you want me to go away, I need to be paid. Everything will stay between me and you. Shit you a better choice for her anyway.”
The audacity.
“I take Cashapp, Venmo, and Zelle,” he joked.
I buried my fist in his stomach, watching him fold. Then I snatched him back up by his hoodie. Right now wasn’t the time for fuckin jokes.
“You ought to be glad I don’t drag you in that house, blow your brains out, and claim self-defense.”
His eyes went wide, and I grilled his ass. I was sick of him even being in my presence.
“You ain’t even worth the cleanup. Nobody would miss you. What the fuck do you want?”
He pulled out his phone with shaking hands. My blood turned to ice seeing the screen—an intimate photo from last night in my bedroom was displayed on his phone.
“I want fifty thousand dollars. And there’s more.”
I pressed the barrel under his chin, careful to keep it concealed from any potential witnesses. “Extortion, damn homie. Going out sad. And if I don’t?”
“I need that, so I’m going everywhere with it. May even sell it to some sites.”
The urge to end him right here was overwhelming. Instead, I cracked him across the jaw with the butt of the gun.
“Get yo pissy ass from round here. I ain’t paying you shit.”
“Last night was very... educational. Amazing what people do when they think nobody’s watching. Medical boards tend to frown on doctors who get too personal with their patients’ families. I mean, I assume. I ain’t the smartest nigga, you know?”
I forced myself to laugh. “I don’t believe you. Nigga, you already lied to me once. The pussy definitely worth sliding for. Once a liar, always a liar. Get the fuck on and find another dummy to hustle.”
I tucked my gun away and tapped his chin almost gently. “Ashe, you just threatened the wrong man’s woman. And that’s a mistake you’ll pay for. I’ll be seeing you, pussy.”
I walked back to my porch and took a seat, gun resting on my knee. I watched him stumble to his car. He peeled away without looking back, but I knew this wasn’t over.
Once I felt the coast was clear, I stood.
My mind was. I was furious. Not to mention irritation crept up on thinking about me just letting that nigga make it.
I wanted to blow his shit off right then and there, but that would take me from Sametra.
The very woman he was threatening was what saved his life.
The irony wasn’t lost on me; her existence was the only thing keeping his bitch ass breathing.
This had just escalated beyond some dead-beat dad trying to reconnect. Extortion. Stalking. Taking pictures through my bedroom window. My jaw clenched thinking about him watching us, watching her in her most vulnerable moments. The violation of it made my trigger finger itch.
I went inside and locked the door, then headed to my office. From the back of my desk drawer, I pulled out a burner phone I hadn’t touched in years. Some numbers you only called when shit got real. And shit had gotten more than real.
Rex and I went way back to when I was young and stupid, making moves I couldn’t take back.
When Mama got hurt and the medical bills started drowning us, I’d done what I had to do.
Stack or starve. And I chose survival. That’s how I met Rex, through his cousin Delaney down in Alabama.
Those days were behind me, but some connections you kept—just in case.
The phone rang twice before a gravelly voice answered. No greeting, just silence.
“It’s Lik. Time to call in that favor.”
A pause. “Been a while. Must be serious if you’re calling this number.”
“Somebody tryin’ to extort me. Got pictures. Talkin’ reckless about my girl and my license and shit. I almost shot his ass this morning, broad daylight.”
“Send me everything. Name, location, known associates, anything you know. And jail ain’t ever the goal, only an option. Secure line still good?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Rex... this dude’s movin’ wild. Said he’d leak shit to blogs, licensing boards, anybody who’d listen. I need the dirt as soon as possible.”
“Oh, she’s special. Never thought I’d see the day.”
I’d heard that same damn tone from too many mouths lately, like me loving somebody was breaking news.
Like I wasn’t allowed to have soft spots.
Granted, no one had been able to get anywhere near this part of me, but Sametra was different.
I was different because of her. I wasn’t just in love, I was rooted .
And Sametra wasn’t a fling. She was home, and I’d empty the clip and bank behind home.
“More than that,” I said, jaw tight. “This my wife he fucking with. He violated.”
“Copy that. Bullshit level?”
“He was outside my crib last night. Watched us sleep through the window like some sick-ass groupie. I’m at the highest level of bullshit there is Rex.”
The line got quiet for a second. Then Rex said, “Proud of you, bro. I’ll have something back in forty-eight hours. Let him make it for now. Be smart.”
“Always.”
“And Lik? If this turns into more than recon…”
“Then I’ll handle it accordingly.”
Click.
I cracked the SIM in half, flushed it, and slid the burner back in the locked drawer. Rex didn’t miss. If Ashe had skeletons—and they always did—he’d dig ‘em up and leave the bones clean.
Fifty thousand wasn’t random. That was specific money for specific problems. I needed to know who he owed, why he owed it, and how desperate he was to get it. Because desperate men with deadlines did reckless shit.
One thing was clear, Ashe’s pissy ass hadn’t just crossed a line. He set fire to it. And I’d burn the whole city down before I let him come for Sametra.
I picked up my regular phone and called Elite Deliveries, the concierge service I’d found that specialized in curating luxury gift experiences for their clients. I’d been using the business since the first time I sent Sametra dinner.
“Mr. Holloway,” Ivy answered on the first ring. “What can we create for you today?”
“I need something delivered to my girl. Like the last time. White roses…lots of them. And that laptop setup we discussed last week. You get that figured out for me?”
“Yes sir, I was able to grab it and a few other things. Should I prepare that?”
“Yeah, include everything I requested. The glasses, too.”
“Excellent choice. Our signature presentation?”
“Always. And include a note: Hey beautiful, I miss you already – Rommy Rome.”
She deserved to come home to beauty, not the ugliness her ex was trying to bring to our door. Maybe I couldn’t tell her about Ashe yet, but I could make sure she knew she was loved, protected, cherished.
An hour later. My phone buzzed with a text from Sametra.
Baby: You gotta stop spoiling me. I’ve got enough flowers to open my own shop.
A knot formed in my stomach. Was I supposed to tell her that her ex was outside my window all night like some deranged stalker? That he had pictures? That he was trying to extort us? Me. Because her paying or helping that nigga wasn’t an option.
I decided I wouldn’t speak on it until I knew exactly what we were dealing with. Sametra had enough on her plate without adding this bullshit. She deserved to hold onto that glow a little longer. But keeping secrets from her felt wrong, especially after she’d trusted me with everything.